


Insulation

by ChocoSweets



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Belly Kink, Clothing Kink, Cold Weather, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Feeding Kink, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Multi, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Suggestive Themes, Teasing, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, chubby Dante
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29871051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoSweets/pseuds/ChocoSweets
Summary: When the heating gets shut off during a particularly nasty cold-spell, you pester Dante to stay warm and bundled up so he doesn't get sick—but he's very adamant about not needing to wear his signature red jacket.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Dante (Devil May Cry)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Insulation

**Author's Note:**

> I am addicted to writing chubby Dante fics, what can I say. I hope you all enjoy a slightly longer piece while I procrastinate college work.
> 
> [Request Box](https://forms.gle/MiZoZqePSLne2kLy6) 🧁  
> [Tumblr](https://chocosweets.tumblr.com) 🧁

The heater had gone out with a sputtering of dust two hours ago, and now it had been two hours full of you fussing over the temperature of the office.

Dante was nonchalant—irritatingly so. Light snow was falling outside and _sticking,_ that much you could see through the yellowed windows, and as your gaze drew to him you couldn't help but scowl. First snow of December, and of course the heating and cooling bill hadn't been paid.

This sort of predicament was not something new, but rather the last times had been few and far between. Usually Redgrave wasn't so cold, with a temperate climate that only occasionally got heatwaves, so the last time he'd forgotten to pay the utilities some months ago it hadn't been so bad. But lately... _well._ Even without hanging around Devil May Cry all day to see it for yourself, you knew most of Dante's cash had been going into pizza and ice cream just from looking at him.

He had obviously packed on some winter weight. With how much softer he was now, he must've been indulging several times daily to melt those abs away at such a fast rate. His gut hung plush and chubby over the waistband of his pants, straining the belt at its last loop—but it was soft to the touch, like a pillow, and with a deep belly button. It sat happy on his thighs, which squished together and dimpled over, always filling up whatever seat he occupied fully. Those meaty tits of his had only gotten meatier, too, showing ample cleavage under his low-cut Henley as they rested contently atop his tummy. Even his sides had fat curves now, bulging out into plump rolls, and the muscles at his arms were starting to go flabby, too. 

Still, you couldn’t help but be... _fond_ of this development. It made him look so _cute_. You could just imagine him now in ugly holiday sweaters and cuddling up against that chub under the blankets as you watched movies together. 

He was lazy lately, with not many clients—and it showed in his empty wallet and thick physique. But well, at least the water, gas, and lights were still working. 

The colder weather had made him more prone to simply lounging around inside with hot meals, and surely he would've also ordered delivery today and stuffed himself silly if you hadn't insisted you'd cook for the both of you. In the hours you'd spent putting on warm clothes and strewing blankets under the doors and windows to keep the winds at bay, you'd also started preparing chicken noodle soup in the small kitchenette.

The rich broth was nearly finished, so you shut the burner off and poked your head back into the main room, wiping your hands on your apron as your gaze finally landed on him.

Dante sat at the couch currently, just in his usual dark shirt and pants, lying with his back propped against the armrest. His eyes were closed as he rested, but you could tell he wasn't asleep by the way he massaged his belly absentmindedly, ebbing away the gassy burps that kept erupting from the cola he'd been drinking. Admittedly, he looked so comfortable and cozy, especially with his softer edges.

But you were on a mission.

"— _Dante!_ " You were a little louder than intended, and he flinched a little, opening up only one eye. Before he could quip a snarky reply back, you continued, "I told you to put on your jacket, or at least a blanket! You'll catch a cold!"

" _Babe,_ " he mumbled wearily, readjusting himself. As he sat up straighter, his belly fell to his lap, jiggling into place. The way it rounded out in this position just made it look plumper. "I'm fine, promise. It's only a little chilly."

" _A little?_ " You pouted—you were wearing a tanktop underneath your sweater, and baggy jeans with long socks, all with the frilly apron on top. And here Dante was, only with his sleeves rolled up and thin leather pants. "Are you crazy? You'll freeze! Unless you wanna go out at this hour and earn enough money to pay the heating bill.”

"...That'll be a no," he conceded—and then his stomach rumbled as he stretched his arms. After, when he pulled his legs in, he set his palm on the crest of his gut and patted. “Not without some dinner at least. When’s the food ready?”

“As soon as you bundle up,” you said sharply, fully prepared for him to give in at the promise of something he usually couldn’t resist. 

Instead, Dante groaned, throwing his head back. “Come on, baby, don’t be a hardass about it—you should wear it instead anyway.”

Your brow rose skeptically, but your arms remained crossed over your chest. Now he was really pulling out the advanced excuses, trying to act as if leaving all the blankets and jackets for you was a sacrificial move, all for your sake. 

But something was fishy. “I think I’ll manage,” you chided, striding toward his desk. He watched you at a distance. 

You snatched his long, maroon coat from the coat rack, swinging it in front of you and holding it out for him. But he just smirked pleasantly and yawned, pretending not to see you. 

Yet you persisted, plopping yourself down next to him and holding it open by the collar. "Please, I don't want you sick! Not when we can finally spend some quality time together…" 

You hadn't meant for your tone to shift to one of sadness, but it was too late—a twang of guilt passed over Dante's face, and he put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ahhh, well, if it means that much to you…" He seemed hesitant still, but stood up fully, a sliver of flesh at his belly exposed when his shirt rode up slightly. 

You giggled happily and stood back up, too, holding out one sleeve for him to slip into and then the next. The fabric seemed to cling to him more tightly than you recalled previously, particularly at his arms and chest. It fit a lot more snug, but surely you were just seeing things—he might’ve put on some weight, but it’s not like his jacket had been skin tight before. It was usually fairly loose-fitting.

“There! Isn’t that better?~” you sang, reaching up and rubbing his shoulders where the clothing now covered his exposed neckline. “You look warmer already.”

“ _Sure, sure._ ” Dante squirmed under your grip, eyeing the kitchen again. “Now, about finally eating—“ 

“—Wait! I’ve got to make sure you keep that heat in.” Your hands found the inside edges of the coat, and trailed down despite his light groans of protest. 

The zipper part of the jacket ended near his hips and went up to his chest, so you grabbed the ends of it with each hand. And when you brought the sides together...they couldn’t quite meet. Dante’s soft, flabby underbelly poured out a little too far, preventing the zipper from closing. 

Heat rose to your cheeks as you tried every angle—across the width of his belly, and even pulling the flaps underneath the curve as far as you could in the hopes they would touch just enough for you to clasp them. But no such luck, and you tilted your face up to look at Dante. 

Who was laughing awkwardly, with a broad, sheepish smile going from ear-to-ear—he looked more relaxed, though, as if his little ‘secret’ was out now. 

“See, I might’ve put on a few pounds, and…” The grin seemed proud, and didn’t fade at all as he grabbed some of his soft chub. “... _Well._ ” 

A ‘few’ was a gross understatement, but you kept that to yourself. “And your jacket doesn’t really fit anymore, huh?” you finished wearily, shaking your head. 

“Yup! But hey, on the plus side, there’s just a little more of me to love.” 

You rolled your eyes at how light-hearted he still was, given the circumstances. “Yeah, _‘a little’._ It’s from all that junk food you snack on.” 

Dante clutched his chest and swooned. “So cold-hearted! Is it this weather that’s making you so icy?” 

But you ignored his comments as you fidgeted with the zipper, yanking them with no avail. Until—you sank your fingers into his gut, lifting it in one final attempt to clasp the zipper underneath and pull it over the heavy curve. It felt solid, with a fluffy weight to it. 

It made him yelp. “ _Woah_ , someone’s touchy tonight.” 

“S-Sorry, Dante! I-I think I can get it to zip, though…” You were more focused on this task than you should’ve been, mostly because of how embarrassed the whole situation left you. “Can’t you suck it in for just a second?” 

“Yes, ma’am~” 

...It made the slightest difference—hardly any, as his gut was still so chunky that holding in his breath wouldn’t make it nearly close to flat. Yet, somehow, you managed to clip the zipper and pull it up a few inches. 

But near his belly button, at the highest peak, it would hardly budge forward, and Dante snorted at your feverish attempts. 

“Nevermind…” you huffed in defeat, yanking it back down to part the sides before he exhaled and ruined his coat. 

But Dante seemed no worse for wear—with a dreamy grin still and devious glint in his eyes that made you fizz with glee. That smile was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh when he went to cup your face. 

Then he spoke, "Forget all this. Too many layers hiding my sexy body, anyway." Despite his size, Dante slung his red coat off of his frame in a smooth motion from muscle-memory, tossing it onto the couch before kissing one of your dusty pink cheeks. And then, he arched his neck, leaning in so close against you that his lips brushed against your ear. "I don't need that jacket especially—you're heating me up plenty."

"Ohoho," you sing-songed with a cruel venom, "I guess you're right—" And your hand...lowered down to pinch-pinch- _pinch_ a hefty chunk of his lovehandles thrice in succession. "—You have enough _insulation_ already."

"Too cruel, my beloved," came out as a faux-whimper, Dante nudging his face into your neck. He lifted you up and set you down on the sofa as you pawed at his chest, hugging him close. “I guess the soup can wait a little while longer, huh, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t agree more. 


End file.
